


To Have Loved And Lost

by IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Death, Domestic destiel, F/M, First Kiss, Heavy Angst, I'm so sorry, Like seriously they all die, M/M, Mass shooting, Murder, Suicide, The Author Regrets Everything, you will cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt/pseuds/IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt
Summary: The Winchesters and Cas retire, settle down. They're well established in a happy, suburban life when disaster strikes, leaving Dean unable to cope.Or: There's a mass shooting that claims the lives of Sam, Sam's wife, and Cas. Dean doesn't want to live without them.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	To Have Loved And Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of this and everything that happens here is fictional! As far as I know Washburn College is a wonderful safe place to learn.
> 
> Also I'm very very sorry for this please don't hate me

Ten years ago:  
  
They’d just finished ganking a Lady in White when Cas popped in. “Well, ain’t it good to see you now,” Dean grouched.  
  
So sue him. It was late, he was covered in mud, and he was tired. Oh yeah, and Cas hadn’t showed up when Dean had prayed for help.  
  
Oh, and Sam was unconscious in the mud, having been whacked over the head by a flying piece of debris. “Great to see ya, feathers. Can you help me with Sammy?”  
  
Cas nodded, solemnly, those beautiful blue eyes squinting in concentration. “Should I return him to your hotel room?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, see if you can wake him up once you get him there. I’m gonna clean up a bit here.” Dean turned to his trunk and started wiping that godawful, red Oklahoma mud off of everything. “And, uh, Cas? Thanks.”  
  
“Of course, Dean.” And with a slight flapping noise, Dean’s brother and Dean’s angel were gone.  
  
When Dean got back to the hotel room, Sam was devoid of mud and lying on one of the beds. Cas was standing awkwardly in the center of the room. “So, Cas, whatcha got?”  
  
“Sam is concussed. I have healed him, but he remains unconscious.” Great. Just great. Dean had been too slow and Sammy had gotten hurt again. Jesus. Would he ever stop fucking up?  
  
“Dean?” The gravelly voice was strangely soft, and the angel had moved closer. Way closer. Like, in Dean’s personal space bubble. Dean very pointedly did not notice Cas’ big blue eyes, or tousled hair, or the determined set of his broad shoulders...  
  
Nope. Not going there.  
  
“Dean, you need to rest.” And Cas was herding him toward the bathroom, telling him to shower, then sleep.  
  
Dean, slightly dazed and confused, obeyed. As he slid under the stream of lukewarm water, his mind slid unbidden to his guardian angel. Cas cared so much for them, was so unfailingly kind. He always was there when Dean needed him, even if he was a couple minutes late sometimes.  
  
Dean toweled himself off and tugged on his boxers, wondering. What had Dean ever done to inspire such loyalty? He didn’t deserve it.  
  
As Dean emerged from the bathroom, Cas advanced on him. The angel’s face was stony with what looked like subdued anger.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Okay, obviously Dean had done something, screwed something up. But what? He scoured his memory, trying frantically to figure out what he should be apologizing for.  
  
Cas advanced on him, features settling firmly into an expression Dean would definitely classify as smitey.  
  
“You think very loudly, Dean.” Cas was standing almost nose to nose with him. Well, shit.  
  
“Cas, man, I’m sorry, look, I’ll try to keep it down, I know you don’t want me projecting all that shit about you all over the place...” Dean trailed off as Cas reached out and awkwardly took his hand.  
  
“Dean, how can you think so little of yourself?” Cas sounded pained.  
  
What? Dean made a little confused noise that probably sounded like a hamster getting stepped on.  
  
Cas continued, inexorably. “Dean, I do not understand how you could have such a low opinion of yourself. Is your soul not the brightest I have ever seen?”  
  
“Uh, yeah, uh, what? No, that can’t be right. I’ve done some shit, Cas, I-“ Dean was stuttering, eyes darting anywhere but looking at Cas.  
  
“Dean. You are a good man. You are Heaven’s Righteous Man. Your soul has been through much, but it still shines untarnished.” Cas’ eyes were shining with intensity, and Dean couldn’t help but meet them.  
  
“Cas, I-“  
  
“You are beautiful, Dean Winchester, and I love you.”  
  
Hold up. Record scratch, freeze frame. What was that?  
  
Dean was pretty sure his brain resembled the static on a disconnected TV. Then he lurched forward and kissed Cas.  
  
And Cas kissed him back.  
  
From the bed came a sardonic “Finally. Can I get some sleep now?”  
  
+++  
  
Ten years later:  
  
They’d been good together. Dean and Cas. They’d gotten through every disagreement, every challenge. Cas had even gotten Dean to grow a little self-worth.  
  
Dean loved Cas. He loved when he took Cas coffee in the morning and Cas peered blearily at him, hair a tangled mess. He loved driving nowhere in particular and getting Cas to sing along with the radio. He loved watching Cas tend the beehives they’d set up at the bunker. He loved just being with Cas.  
  
And then came that one fateful battle, and a rogue angel drained the grace right out of Cas. Cas crumpled to the ground, and Dean felt his heart stop. But Cas was okay; Cas was alive.  
  
And Dean helped him learn to be human, helped him get back on his feet, and their relationship was as strong as ever. Cas called Dean his sweetheart, and Dean called Cas his angel, because even when Cas wasn’t actually an angel, he still was in Dean’s eyes. Cas loved hearing it, loved that even now he could be Dean’s guardian.  
  
They started talking about retiring. Other hunters could handle the little things, and if more apocalypses came, well. They could always come back.  
  
They bought a duplex in Topeka, Kansas. Sam lived on one side, Dean and Cas on the other.  
  
Dean got a job at an auto repair store, specializing in classic cars. He was good at what he did. He loved his job. Maybe, he thought, as he peered at the hairs starting to go grey at his temples, maybe he was old enough to settle down.  
  
Cas worked at a library downtown. He wore sweater vests, and needed glasses now because turns out he’s shortsighted as a human. His hair and beard slowly started to get sprinkled with silver. There was nobody, he would say to Dean on lazy Sunday mornings, that he would rather grow old with.  
  
Sam forged himself a multitude of papers, and somehow got a job at the local university. He taught courses on religions and spirituality and mythology. Then he met an English professor named Lauren Green, and they went on dates, and they got married.  
  
She was pregnant with their first child when it happened.  
  
Cas had gone from the library to take a book over to Sam. Sam, Lauren, and Cas had decided to go eat lunch together, outside, on the quad.  
  
Dean was working on a ‘57 Mustang, red, when he got the call. “Sir, we’re calling to inform you that there’s been a shooting at Washburn University.”  
  
Dean would never be able to remember anything about the drive to the hospital.  
  
Turns out a student had been kicked out of the university for cheating, and had snapped. He’d walked into the center of the quad with a semiautomatic and started firing.  
  
Sam had flung himself in front of Lauren, trying to protect his wife and child. He’d been pronounced dead at the scene.  
  
Lauren died soon after being admitted to the hospital. Internal injuries, they said. She’d still had Sam’s blood streaked across her arm when she flatlined.  
  
Dean hadn’t been able to focus on anything except that, those drying red flakes that were all that was left in this world of his baby brother.  
  
He’d held her hand as she died. She’d been delirious; made him promise to look after Sam when she was gone.  
  
His throat tasted like ash when he said he would. He almost choked on the lie, but no. She needed to hear it.  
  
Cas had been shot once in the abdomen, once in the leg, and once in the shoulder.  
  
Cas lingered.  
  
Cas lingered for three days, small and still and pale on the hospital bed in the ICU, hooked up to beeping machines and IV bags. Dean barely left his side.  
  
On the fourth day, Cas woke up from his medically induced coma. He’d squeezed Dean’s hand. He’d told Dean he loved him.  
  
He’d said that even if he’d known this would happen, he wouldn’t have changed a single thing.  
  
And then Cas had gone into cardiac arrest, and was taken away by faceless doctors in long white coats.  
  
And then Cas was gone, and Dean crumpled to the floor, keening.  
  
Please, he begged God, Please, if you’re listening. If you’re even there. Take me instead. Cas didn’t deserve this, Cas never deserved this.  
  
Sitting at home, in the kitchen he’d once danced to Zeppelin with Cas, Dean pulled out his handgun.  
  
He and Cas had sat at this table, had had those banal discussions so common in everyday life here.  
  
Why hadn’t he savored those moments with the reverence they deserved?  
  
Why was it that Castiel, the angel who battled millions, who dragged a battered soul out of hell, who’d fallen from grace for the sake of his love, could be taken out by something so mundane as a crazed human with a gun?  
  
Dean didn’t want to live without his angel.  
  
He chuckled. It was funny, in a sad sort of way. Back when they were hunters, he’d always said he’d die with a gun in his hands. He’d known that Winchesters don’t grow old, and they don’t die happy. When they’d settled down he’d thought he left that behind him.  
  
He hadn’t.  
  
And so, surrounded by the ghosts of his latest life, the echoes of the people he’d loved most, Dean pulled the trigger.  
  
+++  
  
When he woke up, Cas was there, smiling at him. Sam was standing over them, his hand in Lauren’s. Bobby was there, and Charlie, and everyone Dean had ever lost, ever failed to save.  
  
“Welcome to Heaven, Dean.”  
  
And Dean let himself cry.

**Author's Note:**

> If you cried, leave a comment telling me so!
> 
> If you have a prompt you want me to write, tell me what it is and I promise I'll do it!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, my lovelies!


End file.
